


Perfect Match (Perfect Somehow)

by BloodInTheFields



Category: Gypsy (US TV)
Genre: F/F, Mentions other characters, some language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-07-11
Packaged: 2018-12-01 01:37:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11475870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BloodInTheFields/pseuds/BloodInTheFields
Summary: In the days following Sidney finding out the truth about her, Jeans stops by her apartment to have a much-needed conversation.





	Perfect Match (Perfect Somehow)

**Author's Note:**

> Look, Gypsy is a compelling show, okay? 
> 
> I hope I did the characters justice, so let me know what you think of this. I don't mind constructive criticism.

It’s the memory of the ghost of a smile on Sidney’s face that gets Jean through the next couple of days. Everything is hell, at home, at work. Allison hasn’t resurfaced. The police are sniffing around the office, asking questions Jean isn’t sure how to answer. Michael looks at her with barely concealed disgust and obvious disappointment. Dolly—bless her heart—is a total angel, and completely oblivious to the tension around her at home.

 

Jean hasn’t seen Sidney since she showed up at the event the other night. The young woman had disappeared before she had the chance to get off the stage and make up an excuse to eclipse herself and find Sidney to explain everything.

 

But Sidney had smiled. Jean had seen it, clear as day. And even if her phone remains stubbornly silent, even if Jean worries that she’s in over her head, she has faith.

 

__

 

It takes her another three days to make up her mind. The police are finally looking the other way, digging further into Tom’s past and his relationship with Allison and Jean feels like she can breathe again. She doesn’t ask about the apartment Tom had mentioned to the detective. She doesn’t even know if it’s been investigated since she gave her key to Michael. Not knowing should freak her out. It normally would. But all that’s on her mind is Sidney.

 

Sidney, Sidney, Sidney.

 

Three days before Jean works up the courage to go and knock on her door, silently praying that the door will open and reveal the object of her desire. She’s aching, which is a strange feeling, an unfamiliar one.

 

__

 

Sidney isn’t home. Of course not. It’s past nine in the evening on a Friday night; she’s probably out with friends. Perhaps Jean should leave. What if someone stops by and finds her at the door? What if it’s Sam?

 

Jean shakes her head. Sam is engaged to Emily. He’s not coming back here. She takes a deep breath and leans back against the wall. She’ll give it fifteen minutes and then leave. She could try to call Sidney but she has a feeling the girl wouldn’t answer.

 

Her fingers find her phone in the small leather purse she carries. She takes it out and stares at it for a few seconds, debating with herself. Finally, she slips it back in the purse and sighs.

 

Maybe it wasn’t a smile on Sidney’s face.

 

What if she’s wrong and she lost her?

 

__

 

She’s halfway to her car when she sees her. Sidney is walking home, lost in her own world, looking straight ahead without seeing anything, her headset firmly in place and no doubt blaring some music Jean’s never heard of.

 

Jean freezes. Sidney’s walking straight toward her and finally—finally—their eyes lock. There’s recognition in Sidney’s gaze, and doubt and mistrust. Jean shivers under the scrutiny but she doesn’t make a move. She waits until Sidney arrives to a stop in front of her, right into her personal space. A hand reaches for the headset and pulls it back, around her neck. The other hand arranges the wild mane. Jean longs to touch it, to touch _her_.

 

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again, _Diane_ ,” Sidney says; her tone harsh and sarcastic.

“My name is Jean.”

“I know,” Sidney tells her as she walks past Jean.

 

Jean follows, hardly keeping up with Sidney’s long strides.

 

“We need to talk,” she implores.

 

She hates the way her voice trembles. She hates the way Sidney smirks without mirth and pays her no attention. Jean reaches for her arm but stops herself before she can grab it. Instead, she walks behind Sidney and catches the door when it slams open. At least Sidney isn’t kicking her out and telling her to go fuck herself. That’s a start.

 

__

 

The apartment is still the same. It smells the same, too. Jean catches sight of the bed and she’s reminded of that night of passion only a few weeks ago. It seems so far away now. Sidney follows her gaze and scoffs. Jean’s attention shifts back to her.

 

“It’s not like you didn’t know I was lying to you,” Jean states, almost too quietly.

“It’s not like you ever tried to be convincing in your lies,” Sidney retorts.

 

Jean stands, frozen, as Sidney starts walking toward her until she’s only a foot away.

 

“The marriage, I suspected. The kid, too. What kid calls you so late at night but your own? It’s the shrink thing I’m having a hard time understanding.”

 

Her eyes shine so intensely; Jean cannot look away. She struggles to find her words, which is not something that happens to her often. But Sidney is here and she’s close and she looks so fierce in the semi-darkness of the apartment. Jean burns under her stare.

 

“Is that what gets you off? Fucking with people, manipulating them?”

“I…”

“Did it make you hot to think about me with Sam?”

“Sidney…”

 

Her back hits the wall and her trance is broken. She hadn’t even realized she was moving back. But Sidney is now pressed against her, breath warm against her neck, the tip of her nose tracing random patterns against her left cheek. Jean’s hands tremble at her sides, aching to touch, to grip, to bruise.

 

“Oh God,” she whispers when she feels a tongue poke the corner of her lips and then disappear.

“Do you enjoy the control you have over your patients? Is that it?”

“Yes,” Jean breathes out as her hands finally land on Sidney’s hips.

 

Sidney takes them away immediately and slams them back against the wall.

 

“How in control do you feel now,” she asks as she pulls back slightly to look into Jean’s darkened eyes.

“Not at all,” Jean answers truthfully.

 

Sidney’s lips curl into a devious smile and it’s liberating to be able to tell her the truth for once. But Sidney isn’t done. One of her hands slips under Jean’s shirt and caresses the skin underneath. Jean’s head pushes back against the wall, hips instinctively moving forward for more contact.

 

“Why did you come here, Mrs. Shrink? Hmm? What do you want with me?”

“I wanted… to talk to you. Explain,” Jean struggles to say.

 

Sidney has the upper hand and on the surface, it bothers Jean tremendously. But deep down, she feels freer and more alive than she has in a long while. Her eyes close as Sidney once again pushes against her.

 

And suddenly, Jean’s cold. Sidney has stepped back, already turning away from her and walking toward her liquor cabinet where she stores a few bottles of cheap alcohol. Jean watches her without a word and wonders what’s going on inside her head. Sidney throws her a look and she realizes that the girl has poured her a drink too. She moves away from the wall and toward the glass Sidney’s holding out for her.

 

“Thank you,” she says when she takes it, fingers grazing Sidney’s.

 

They drink in silence, occasionally glancing at each other. Sidney doesn’t seem like she’s going to say anything more or to ask questions, and Jean knows it’s her turn to speak.

 

“I want to help my patients the best way that I can. I know it’s unethical. It’s… wrong. But I’ve helped so many people over the years that way.”

“Do you make a habit of fucking them?”

“No, of course not. You were… unexpected. I wanted to understand Sam better. The way he kept talking about you, like you were this beacon of light… I needed to see for myself. To help him better.”

 

Sidney’s eyebrows raise in skepticism and she downs her drink in one long gulp, then pours herself another.

 

“The whole fake identity… are you using it with other people too?”

“Sometimes, yes.”

“You’re fucked up. All this time you were saying I was playing with people when you’re, like, a master manipulator. A fucking puppeteer.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t. You actually amaze me. I mean, to pull off something like that, to live a complete lie… you have to be fucking insane.”

 

Jean doesn’t reply to that. She’s questioned her own sanity many times; it doesn’t bother her that Sidney makes the assumption. Perhaps she is insane. She empties her glass and puts it back next to the bottle.

 

“Aren’t you afraid of people finding out,” Sidney asks, genuinely curious.

“Of course I am,” Jean admits easily. “But the thrill of the lie is stronger than the fear of it being discovered.”

“Crazy bitch,” Sidney mutters, though there’s no bite in her tone.

 

Jean smirks.

 

“Will you tell on me?”

“Like I fucking care what you do with your life, _doctor_.”

 

Sidney’s stance is defiant, hands on her hips and chin up, staring straight into Jean’s amused eyes. She waits until she sees the first sign of faltering in the younger woman’s attitude and then she steps closer, slowly. Sidney doesn’t budge but her gaze is more searching now.

 

“Does it make _you_ hot to think about all the lies I told you just so that I could be with you?”

 

Perhaps Sidney had been expecting the role reversal because she doesn’t flinch. She merely raises an eyebrow and bites her lip, which Jean finds incredibly distracting. She takes another step forward.

 

“Do you enjoy knowing that you were the one thing I couldn’t control and that I craved it?”

“Maybe,” Sidney replies, fake confidence showing on her features.

“Hmm…”

 

They’re close enough to touch now, and Jean’s hand finds a soft curl of hair and twirls it around her index finger.

 

“Do you still want to fuck me even though you think I’m insane?”

“Maybe,” Sidney repeats, though this time the confidence is real.

“And what does that say about you,” Jean whispers hotly against her mouth.

 

Sidney bites down gently on Jean’s lower lip and her hands grab at Jean’s shirt, feverish and eager. Jean allows the bruising kiss that follows and she whimpers in Sidney’s mouth, ardent desire flaring through her body. Sidney pulls back after the kiss ends, and she lets her forehead rest against Jean’s.

 

“That maybe I need therapy,” she replies matter-of-factly.

 

Jean smiles at her.


End file.
